Promises Broken and Truths Told
by TVJunkie1013
Summary: JAM. Someone always pays the price when you tell the truth ...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Promises Broken and Truths Told

**Author:** Me

**Pairing:** Jim/Pam; Jim/Karen; Roy/Pam

**Prompt:** #71 - Broken

**Rating: **13

**Word Count: **2018

**Disclaimer: **Nope … still don't own anything.

**Summary:** Someone always pays the price when you tell the truth ...

**Warning**: There are definitely spoilers for "Casino Night" and "Cocktails" in this fic. There may also be spoilers for a few other episodes … you've been warned.

* * *

The moment Jim pulled his jacket on, he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket. He was a little confused. Who would be calling him? Now? Everyone knew where he was. Tossing Karen's wrap across his shoulder, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

_You have 1 missed call_ -- read the tiny screen. The 'new message' icon was blinking as well.

A few quick key punches, and the phone number popped up on the tiny screen. He didn't recognize it, though it seemed vaguely familiar. A Scranton area code; followed by the same prefix that all of the numbers at Dunder Mifflin had. But he knew the last four digits didn't belong to any of the phone extensions throughout the office.

He dialed the number for his voicemail and punched in his password.

_You have 1 new message. To play all new messages, press 1._

"Jim … uh … hi. It's me. Pam. I … um … something happened tonight during happy hour. At Poor Richards. Um … please call me as soon as you get this message. My phone died so I'm actually calling you from the office lobby, so don't try and call me back on my cell. I'll be home in about twenty minutes, so please call me there. It's … uh … pretty important. Okay? Thanks, Jim. Bye."

Jim's pulse sped up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of Pam's voice. He wanted to believe that he was reacting this way because of her tone. She sounded nervous. Maybe even a little bit scared. And while he supposed that was part of the reason, he knew deep down in his soul that it wasn't the only reason.

They hadn't spoken to each other Phyllis' wedding. He was angry with her because she'd left with Roy. He was angry with himself for even entertaining the thought that just because he'd caught her looking at him while he was dancing with Karen, that there might be something between them. Again. But every day, it was a struggle to stay mad at Pam. Numerous times during the day, he felt himself wanting to talk to her. Wanting to just be with her like they used to do.

He stopped himself each time he felt the desire to turn in his chair. To see her sitting at reception. There was nothing between them. He had misinterpreted their friendship. She'd made that perfectly clear. But somewhere, tucked away within the depths of his heart, he thought that maybe, just maybe there could be a chance for them.

And try as he might, Jim couldn't lie to himself anymore. No matter what they'd done in the past and no matter what their futures held, he had to finally admit that he really missed Pam. A lot.

Jim replayed the message again, then hung up and, without hesitation, dialed Pam's home phone number. He hadn't called her in weeks, yet his fingers flew over the buttons with practiced precision. Jim smiled -- he knew her number better than he knew his own.

The reception was terrible. Then again, he was standing in a closet, how could he expect a signal to connect? He turned and blindly stepped into the hallway -- almost knocking Karen down in the process. He snapped his phone shut and jammed it back into his pocket.

"Karen," he gripped her shoulders lightly. "Are you okay? I'm really sorry."

"I'm fine," she laughed and straightened herself out. "Who were you talking to?" she asked as Jim helped her with her wrap.

"Ah … no one," he replied, the guilty tone in his voice making him cringe. "I had a voicemail, but it was … uh … wrong number. Someone looking for 'Jimbo'. No one has ever called me that. Well, except for Michael." Karen laughed again and Jim breathed a sigh of relief. He hated lying to her, but knew how she'd react if he told her who the message was really from. "You ready to hit the road?"

"Yep. Let's go." Karen slid her arm through Jim's. "Oh, and remember that we have to stop at the office so I can get my car."

"Right."

* * *

The drive back to Scranton seemed to take forever. It was the longest two hours of Jim's life. Karen was talking about some plans that they'd made for the weekend -- to go away together. Jim wasn't really listening to her. The only thing he could do was interject a "yeah" or a "sounds good" here and there, and cross his fingers that he was saying them in the correct points in the one-sided conversation.

His focus was telescoped on the phone in his jacket and the message stored within it. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that the thing was burning a hole straight through his pocket, suit coat and shirt. He could feel it pressing heavily against his chest and the longer they drove, the harder it became to breathe. Jim was so tense, that by the time they finally reached the Dunder Mifflin parking lot, his knuckles were ghost-white and his fingers completely numb. He had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that he'd wound up cutting off the circulation to his hands.

Karen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, startling him out of his trance.

"Hey." She brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired." Jim released his grip and flexed his fingers. They began to tingle unpleasantly. "And, you know, long drive. Twice in one day."

"You sure that's all?"

"Mm hmm," he mumbled, noncommittally.

"Okay," she smiled at him and he forced himself to return it. "Walk me to my car?"

"Of course."

They got out of Jim's car and wandered over to Karen's. He leaned in and kissed her. They broke apart and Jim cleared his throat.

"Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow," he said quickly and turned. Before Karen had a chance to respond, a fist crashed into Jim's face. He pitched backward, slamming into the side of Karen's car. His hand came up to his nose and encountered fluid. Blood, no doubt. And he could feel the skin around his right eye socket puffing up rapidly.

"What the …?" Karen's angry, confused voice spilt the air. "Roy? What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Roy grabbed Jim by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him forward.

"Guess what, Halpert?" His words were tight, his face colored in an angry shade of red. "Pam and me had an interesting conversation tonight."

Jim felt himself go completely tense.

"She sat me down and told me that she wanted us to make it. That she wanted to be honest with me."

Roy's hands tightened in Jim's jacket as he pulled him even closer. Their faces were only inches apart and the heavy scent of beer on Roy's breath turned Jim's nervousness and confusion into fear. If Roy was drunk, there was no telling what he would do. And when he began to speak again, Roy's voice was no louder than a whisper, but his words and his tone were filled with barely restrained rage.

"She told me about what happened on casino night. All about it. How you said you had feelings for her. That she had feelings for you." Roy slammed Jim back against Karen's car. "And that you kissed!"

Jim glanced quickly over at Karen. Her face was set in an unreadable expression and she looked really calm; calmer than she should be considering the fact that he'd just gotten punched in the face. Then again, there was really no reason why Karen would be shocked by what Roy had said. Jim had talked about the Pam situation with Karen. He told her they'd kissed -- though he'd only mentioned the quick, unexpected, drunken kiss at the Dundies and had skipped the part about casino night.

He was afraid to bring it up and figured Karen would never find out about it anyway.

"Roy, calm down," she said quietly, soothingly as she took a step closer to them. She placed her hand on one of Roy's forearms. "Jim and I talked about that. He told me it was no big deal. For either one of them. It was a crush and a kiss. That's it."

"Oh, really? Is that what Mr. Wonderful told you?" Roy kept his eyes locked on Jim. "Did you forget to tell your little girlfriend over there that Pam and me were engaged when you decided to make your move on her? That you told her you loved her right before we were supposed to get married?"

"What?" Karen's shocked voice met Jim's ears and he cringed inwardly.

"Oh yeah. And how could he forget to mention that my fiancée called off our wedding because of what you did that night!" Roy jerked Jim forward one last time then released him and stalked off into the darkness. Jim's legs gave out and he slid to the ground.

"Jim, is all of that true?"

The pain in Karen's tone broke Jim's heart and he hated himself for being the one to make her feel so bad. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, so he pulled his knees up to his chest and his head dropped forward.

"Yes," was all he could manage.

She didn't say another word. He heard the door to her car open and close. Then the engine roared to life and as she pulled away, her tires kicked up a thin sheet of tiny rocks. They flew up and over him, leaving him covered in a sheen of gray dust.

For a moment, he just sat there, on the ground, not moving, letting the last few minutes settle in. Pam had told Roy about casino night? She had called off the wedding because of it? Pam had feelings for him?

His phone vibrated again and Jim pulled it out of his pocket. He flipped it open and saw that he had a new text message. His heart leapt into his throat, but when he opened it, he saw it was from Karen.

"It's over. Don't call me. I've made my decision and there's nothing you can say or do to change my mind."

Jim slapped the phone shut and spun it around in his hand. Round and round it turned on his palm. He watched it as it moved in a small circle. Finally, he made a decision and opened it. He stared at the illuminated keypad, his eyes tracing the digits of her number, his fingertips pausing just above them. But, instead of dialing, Jim closed his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

He stood, slowly, and brushed himself off as he walked to his car.

No, he wasn't going to call Pam. The altercation with Roy had told him everything he needed to know. Jim climbed into his car and glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. His right eye was swollen shut and the skin was already blossoming in shades of red, purple and blue. There was a small line of drying blood that started at his nostrils, dripped down over his lips and came to an end at the bottom of his chin. A few crimson drops had fallen onto the collar of his blue shirt. He looked like hell, but he didn't care.

Jim slid his key into the ignition and drove off into the night.

TBC

**Title:** Promises Broken and Truths Told - 2/2

**Author:** Lisa M

**Fandom:** The Office - U.S.

**Pairing:** Jim/Pam; Jim/Karen; Roy/Pam

**Prompt:** #72 - Fixed

**Rating: **13

**Word Count:**

**Disclaimer: **Nope … still don't own anything.

**Summary:** Someone always pays the price when you tell the truth ...

**Warning**: There are definitely spoilers for "Casino Night" and "Cocktails" in this fic. There may also be spoilers for a few other episodes … you've been warned.

Pam felt herself beginning to doze off. After the Poor Richards fiasco, she had come home to wait for Jim's call. She'd spent the past few hours alternating between watching "Titanic", pacing and biting her fingernails down to the nubs. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was well after midnight.

Would he even call? She wasn't sure.

Things had been so strained between them lately. Ever since Phyllis' wedding, actually. He'd been cold and distant and Pam wasn't sure why or what she'd done to make him so … upset with her. She supposed it could be because of Roy. That she'd left the wedding with him.

Jim had never liked Roy. A fact that he hid from absolutely no one -- especially her. But she couldn't understand why her getting back together with Roy had made him so angry that he'd stopped talking to her. After all, Jim had Karen now. Why should he care about her relationship choices?

Not that it mattered any more. After telling Roy about casino night, he'd flipped out and trashed Poor Richards. Pam left immediately, telling Roy that it was over as she was walking out. And Pam wanted to think that Roy would take all of his anger out on the chairs and tables and mirrors in the bar, but she knew better.

She had to call Jim. She was worried that Roy might go after him -- he needed to be warned. Her cell phone battery died earlier in the evening, so she ran over to the office to call him. When she got to there, she realized that she'd left her key sitting on her desk. Thankfully, there was a telephone in lobby that she could use. Pam's hands shook as she dialed his phone number.

A smile curled her lips at the sound of his voice, but when she heard the beep, the smile disintegrated. She cleared her throat and began speaking in what she thought was a neutral, almost easy-going tone.

"Jim … uh … hi. It's me. Pam. I … um … something happened tonight during happy hour. At Poor Richards. Um … please call me as soon as you get this message. My phone died so I'm actually calling you from the office lobby, so don't try and call me back on my cell. I'll be home in about twenty minutes, so please call me there. It's … uh … pretty important. Okay? Thanks, Jim. Bye."

Then Pam went home to wait.

Soft knocking at the front door pulled Pam from sleep. She glanced at the clock on her cable box -- 2:16am. Another knock, more persistent this time, echoed throughout the quiet house. Pam jumped to her feet. Her brain felt as if it were wrapped in cotton. She couldn't seem to focus. Who in the world could be at her door this late at night.

A loud, sharp bang on the wood cleared her head.

Roy.

It had to be Roy.

Pam tiptoed over to her hallway closet and pulled out the baseball bat that Jim had given her for her birthday the previous year. It had been a joke gift. Someone had broken into a house a few doors down from Pam's and Jim had wanted her to think about getting an alarm system. She'd told him she was way too cheap to get a security system. Then he'd suggested a dog, to which Pam argued that she didn't have room for a dog -- and really didn't want to have to clean up after one either. So he'd given her the bat -- or the "Major League Baseball security system" as he'd called it.

She gripped it tightly as she cautiously approached the locked door.

"Whoever's out there," Pam shouted, her voice squeaking and her words shaking slightly. "You should know that I have a very large, very hard baseball bat, and I'm not afraid to use it in any way necessary."

"Pam," a male voice sounded quietly. "It's me."

Pam thought she recognized the voice, but the fear-based adrenaline rushing through her body was causing her blood to pound in her ears and she couldn't be completely sure. She gripped the bat tighter and peered out through the peep hole. The porch light was burned out so the small entryway was as black as ink. All Pam could see was the vague outline of the man standing on her front stoop.

"Who's me?" she questioned sharply. The only answer she received was a soft chuckle. "And what, may I ask, is so funny?"

"It's me, Pam. Jim," he laughed again, louder this time. "Jim Halpert? Paper salesman for Dunder Mifflin? You know … the person who gave you the bat you're threatening to pummel someone with? And don't worry, I'm not offended."

"Jim?" Pam unlocked the door and pulled it open. It was so dark, that even with the door ajar, she could barely see him.

"Yes, Jim. Were you expecting someone else at 2:30 in the morning?"

"No," she replied, stepping aside so Jim could enter the house. She closed the door behind them and relocked it. "I fell asleep watching TV and when I heard you knocking so hard, I thought you might be Roy."

"Mmmmmm," Jim said, noncommittally. "And why would you need a bat if I had been Roy?" he queried carefully.

Pam sighed deeply and led him into the living room. She flopped down onto the sofa and signaled for him to join her.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time," he replied and dropped down next to her, still shielding his bruised face from her view. "If you want to tell the tale."

They were silent for a moment, both feeling the enormousness of the invisible gulf that they had forged between them. It had been weeks since they'd spoken. Not even a 'hello' or a 'goodbye' had been shared during that time. As the quiet seconds began to lengthen into uncomfortable minutes, Pam turned to face Jim.

"What are you doing here?"

"You left me a message."

"Is your phone broken?"

"No."

"Jim, why are you here? You could've called me back."

"I was worried."

"Worried?"

"Yeah," he said quietly and began to chew at his lower lip. His teeth sunk into the area that had split when Roy punched him and he winced painfully. "I … you sounded funny so I figured I'd stop by."

"Pam, I just can't. Not right now. I need some time to process everything. To figure out how I feel. What I want." Jim released her shoulders and pulled the door open. "I really have to go."

Pam watched as he rushed down the walkway to his car; he was a blur of movement through the inky blackness. She saw him briefly when he opened his car door, the light inside illuminating the tears that were streaming down his face.

Tears that matched the ones dampening her own cheeks.

He didn't glance back, but closed the door, plunging the car into darkness. Pam slammed her own door shut and fell against it. Her choked cries echoed throughout the foyer and her tears kept falling.

_This is how he must have felt that night_ she thought to herself. _When I told him I couldn't be with him. That we couldn't be more than friends._

A soft knock startled her and she jerked the door open.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Promises Broken and Truths Told - 2/2  
**Author:** Me  
**Pairing:** Jim/Pam; Jim/Karen; Roy/Pam  
**Prompt:** #72 - Fixed  
**Rating: **13  
**Word Count:** 2613  
**Disclaimer: **Nope … still don't own anything.  
**Summary:** Someone always pays the price when you tell the truth ...

**Warning**: There are definitely spoilers for "Casino Night" and "Cocktails" in this fic. There may also be spoilers for a few other episodes … you've been warned.

* * *

As soon as Pam got home, she dropped wearily onto the sofa and pulled a blanket around her shoulders. After the Poor Richards fiasco, she had come straight home to wait for Jim's call. She'd spent the past few hours alternating between watching "Titanic" and biting her fingernails down to the nubs as she paced throughout her house. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was well after midnight.

Would he even call? She originally thought he would, but now Pam wasn't so sure.

Things had been so strained between them lately. Ever since Phyllis' wedding, actually. He'd been cold and distant and Pam wasn't sure why or what she'd done to make him so … upset with her. She supposed it could be because of Roy. That she'd left the wedding with him.

Jim had never liked Roy -- a fact that he hid from absolutely no one, let alone her -- but she couldn't understand why her getting back together with Roy had made him so angry that he'd stopped talking to her. After all, Jim had Karen now. Why should he care about her relationship choices?

Not that it mattered any more. After telling Roy about casino night, he'd flipped out and trashed Poor Richards. Pam left immediately, telling Roy that it was over between them. And she wanted to believe that Roy would take all of his anger out on the chairs and tables and mirrors in the bar, but she knew better.

She had to call Jim. She was worried that Roy might go after him -- he needed to be warned. Her cell phone battery had died earlier in the evening, so she ran over to the office to call him. When she got there, she realized that she'd left her keycard sitting on her desk. Thankfully, there was a telephone in lobby that she could use. Pam's hands shook as she dialed Jim's phone number.

A smile curled her lips at the sound of his familiar, friendly voice, but when she heard the beep, the smile disintegrated. She cleared her throat and began speaking in what she thought was a neutral tone.

"Jim … uh … hi. It's me. Pam. I … um … something happened tonight during happy hour. At Poor Richards. Um … please call me as soon as you get this message. My phone died so I'm actually calling you from the office lobby, uh, so don't try and call me back on my cell. Am I rambling? God, I'm rambling. Anyway, I'll be home in about twenty minutes, so please call me there. It's … uh … pretty important. Okay? Thanks, Jim. Bye."

Pam had dropped the handset back into its cradle, then she went home to wait. And now, she wondered if she should have even bothered calling him. With a deep sigh, Pam's eyes slipped shut. Her last thoughts were of Jim.

* * *

A soft knocking at the front door pulled Pam from sleep. She glanced at the clock on her cable box -- 2:16am. Another knock, more persistent this time, echoed throughout the quiet house. Pam jumped to her feet. Her brain felt sluggish, fuzzy. Almost as if it were wrapped tightly in cotton. She couldn't seem to focus. Who in the world could be at her door this late at night.

A loud, sharp bang on the wood immediately cleared the haze from her head.

Roy.

It had to be Roy.

Pam tiptoed over to the hallway closet and pulled out the baseball bat Jim had given her for her birthday the previous year. It had been sort of a joke gift. Someone had broken into a house a few doors down from Pam and Jim had tried to convince her that she needed to think about getting an alarm system. She'd told him there was no way. That on her salary, she couldn't afford one. Then he'd suggested adopting a dog, to which Pam argued that she didn't have room for a dog and really had no desire to clean up after one either. So he'd given her the bat -- or the "Major League Baseball security system" as he'd called it, and she'd laughed so hard that her lungs ached for days afterward.

She'd never really been afraid of Roy before, but this time, things were different. Pam gripped the bat tightly, so tightly in fact, that she swore she could feel the grain of the wood biting into her palms. Cautiously, she approached the locked door.

"Whoever's out there," Pam shouted, her voice squeaking and her words shaking slightly. "You should know that I have a very large, very hard baseball bat, and I'm not afraid to use it in any way necessary."

"Pam," a male voice sounded quietly, "it's me."

Pam thought she recognized the voice, but the fear-based adrenaline rushing through her veins was pounding in her ears and she couldn't be completely sure what or who she was hearing. She gripped the bat tighter and peered out through the peep hole. The porch light was burned out so the small entryway was as black as ink. All Pam could see was the vague outline of a man standing on her front stoop.

"Who's me?" she questioned sharply. The only answer she received was a soft chuckle. "And what, may I ask, is so funny?"

"It's me, Pam. Jim," he laughed again, louder this time. "Jim Halpert? Paper salesman for Dunder Mifflin? You know, the person who gave you the bat you're threatening to pummel someone with? And don't worry, I'm not offended."

"Jim?" Pam unlocked the door and pulled it open. It was so dark, that even with the door ajar, she could barely see him.

"Yes, Jim. Were you expecting someone else at 2:30 in the morning?" he teased lightly.

"No," she replied, stepping aside so Jim could enter the house. She closed the door behind them and relocked it. "I fell asleep watching TV and when I heard you knocking so hard, I thought you might be Roy."

"Mmmmmm, interesting," Jim said, noncommittally. "Why would you need a bat if I had been Roy?" he queried carefully.

Pam let out a heavy sigh and led him into the living room. She flopped down onto the sofa and signaled for him to join her.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time," he replied and, making a conscious effort to shield his bruised face from her view, dropped down beside her. "If you want to tell the tale."

They were silent for a moment, both feeling the enormousness of the gulf that had formed between them. It had been weeks since they'd spoken. A few scattered greetings of 'hello' or 'goodbye' was all that had been shared during that time. As the quiet seconds began to lengthen into uncomfortable minutes, Pam turned to face Jim.

"Jim, what are you doing here?"

"You left me a message."

"Is your phone broken?"

"No."

"You could've just called me back. I expected you to just call me back."

"I was worried."

"Worried?"

"Yeah," he said quietly and began to chew at his lower lip. His teeth sunk into the area that had split when Roy punched him and he winced painfully. "I … you sounded funny so I figured I'd stop by." Pam nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent. Jim slid his hand over hers. "Tell me what happened."

"I don't know if I can," she replied somewhat shyly as a blush colored her face bright pink.

Jim reached over and placed his palm against her cheek.

"Pam, don't do that. We're past that."

"We used to be. You haven't spoken to me in weeks."

"I know, and I'm sorry," he leaned forward, purposely, into the soft light of the tableside lamp. Pam gasped at the sight of Jim's purple eye and swollen lips, but he shook his head before she could say anything. "No. Stop. Before you ask, I want to know what happened."

"But, your eye," she placed her fingers to Jim's temple, but jerked them away when he winced at the contact. "How did you get this?"

"Let's just say," he said with a soft chuckle, "that I already know Roy's side of the story. What I want is your side of it."

"Okay."

Pam's proverbial dam broke. She heard herself telling Jim all about Phylllis' wedding. That she'd been watching him dance with Karen and when he'd looked up, catching her, she'd run away because she was embarrassed. Roy way right there, in her path. They had a talk and decided to give each other and their relationship another chance, but this time, Pam had wanted to be completely honest with Roy. So, she told him about Casino night. About the kiss.

About everything.

"And let me guess," Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, "he didn't take it very well."

"I think your face is all the answer you need," Pam laughed softly and stood. "So, now that I've told you my side, can I get you an ice pack already?"

"That's the least you can do," he replied, his tone light and friendly. "After all, it was your ex who used me for a punching bag." Jim also stood and followed Pam into the kitchen. When she flipped on the lights, he squinted against the brightness. His eye began to throb again, and he couldn't manage to stifle a groan.

"Sorry," Pam said as she filled a Ziploc bag with ice, then wrapped it in a dishtowel. She reached out and held it against the side of his face. "I'm really sorry, Jim."

"Not as sorry as you will be if this shiner ruins my modeling career."

"I really feel back about this and all you can do is make jokes," she sobbed and pulled away. Jim grabbed her hand before she got very far and the ice pack fell to the floor, forgotten.

"Don't run away, Pam," he reached for her with his other hand and turned her so they were face to face, "not this time."

"Do I have any other choice?" she sighed and collapsed into him. "I …"

She was silenced by his mouth covering hers. Their lips molded together, moving in perfect harmony as they kissed. Pam felt Jim's hands slide around her waist, one stopping at the small of her back, the other moving slowly up her spine and into her hair. Pam sighed against Jim's lips as his fingers wove through the silky strands. He pulled her in, deepening their kiss. Electricity shot through Pam when she felt his tongue slip between her lips.

Pam's own hands rose and wrapped around Jim's neck. Her lungs were burning; begging her to break from him and take a breath, but she couldn't bear to move away. She began to feel light-headed and white spots sparkled on the backs of her eyelids. Pam's legs were shaking and her knees were on the verge of buckling.

Jim broke their kiss just as Pam went limp. She began to fall, but Jim's arms wrapped tightly around her and, with a laugh, he hauled her back to her feet.

"Are you okay?"

"Wow," she gasped, her head falling forward onto his chest. Pam could feel his heart beating wildly under his shirt. "Wow."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed as his lips traced a path down her neck to her shoulder, then back up again.

Their mouths met again, but this time, the kiss was heated, frenzied, and before Pam realized what was happening, clothes -- hers and his -- were being removed. By both of them. Her head spun dizzily, her body warming at his touch.

He felt so good against her, but unfortunately, Pam's logical side showed up and took control of the situation.

"Jim," she panted and tried, weakly, to push him away. His embrace was too strong. "Jim? Hey, Jim?"

"Ummm hmmmm," he murmured into her collar bone. It sent shivers all the way down to Pam's toes, almost chasing logical away.

Almost.

"I don't …" she groaned deeply as his tongue swept over her skin. Somehow, she managed to reign herself in. "Jim," she said more forcefully.

"What?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she swallowed roughly. "I mean, we … you and Karen … and Roy … and things are just going so fast."

"Roy broke up with you, right?" As he spoke, Jim ran his fingertips up and down along Pam's spine. They paused at the clasp of her bra, but didn't open it. "Karen dumped me too. The way I see it, you're free, I'm free, and we've both wanted this," he paused again and dragged his tongue lazily down her neck to her shoulder, "for a long time."

Pam couldn't help but groan in pleasure, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't ready.

"Jim," she mumbled into the air, "it's too soon. I don't want this to be a mistake. Not with you. With us."

"What?"

He backed away slightly. The expression on his face sliced painfully though Pam.

"I don't want us to be wrong. This shouldn't happen just because Roy and Karen are gone. This should happen when the timing is perfect. When there's no baggage dragging us down. When it's just you and me."

"It is just you and me, Pam!"

"But, but …" she began, and fumbled with her words, "no. It isn't. There's all this other," Pam waved her hands around in the air, "stuff right now."

"I can't believe this," Jim stumbled backwards as if he'd been punched. "Not again."

"Jim, no. That's not what I mean," Pam sobbed and reached for him, but he just backed further away. "Jim, please. We need to talk about this."

"I just … I can't do this," Jim reached down and retrieved his shirt. He jerked it back on then met Pam's eyes. "I have to go."

"No, wait."

"Goodbye, Pam," he choked on her name, then turned and rushed out of the kitchen and through the front door. Pam grasped her shirt and ran after him.

"Jim!" she sobbed, but he didn't even glance back.

Pam pulled her shirt back on and watched as he rushed down the walkway to his car; he was a blur of movement through the inky blackness. She saw him briefly when he opened his car door, the light inside illuminating the tears that were streaming down his face.

Tears that matched the ones dampening her own cheeks.

He pulled the door shut, plunging the car into darkness. Pam slammed her own door and fell against it. Her choked cries echoed throughout the foyer and her tears kept falling.

_This is how he must have felt that night_ she thought to herself. _When I told him I couldn't be with him. That we couldn't be more than friends. And I've done it again. One more mistake for good old Pammy._

A soft knock startled her and she jerked the door open.

"I have one question."

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?"

"Jim …"

"Just give me an answer, Pam. A simple yes or no."

"Nothing about this, about us, is simple. You know that."

"But it is. I love you, Pam. I've loved you since the day we met. What I need to know is do you love me? It doesn't get more simple than that."

"Yes," Pam said softly, her eyes fixing on his, "I do."

Jim stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

"That's all I needed to hear."


End file.
